


A minor miracle just outside of Edinburgh

by stormsonjupiter



Series: Angsty, Anxious Angel and the Demonic Paramour [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 6000 Years of Pining (Good Omens), 6000 Years of Slow Burn (Good Omens), Accidental Voyeurism, Also is the first time Crowley calls Aziraphale Angel, Angst with a Happy Ending, Aziraphale hasn't discovered masturbation yet but Crowley is an old pro, Aziraphale is a voyeur, Aziraphale's first time witnessing orgasms, Brothels, Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Crowley catches Aziraphale watching heterosexual sex, Embarrassment, Eventual Smut, F/M, Heterosexual Sex, Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), M/M, Male Solo, Masturbation, Mutual Pining, No Beta, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Not exactly what you would call consensual voyeurism, Oblivious Aziraphale (Good Omens), Peeping, Pining, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Prostitution, Sex, Slow Burn, Smut, So is Crowley but he's kinkier about it, There's a human who resembles Crowley, Voyeurism, embarrassed Aziraphale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2019-08-21
Packaged: 2020-09-22 23:50:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20330557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stormsonjupiter/pseuds/stormsonjupiter
Summary: It's the early 17th century, and Aziraphale finishes his trip to Edinburgh to perform his minor miracle, which takes place in a brothel. There he witnesses what really pleasurable sex can be like, and he is intrigued. Crowley, who had been waiting in London for Aziraphale to return, decides to look for his angel, and espies him in a compromising position, and the demon takes matters into his own hands.Chapter 1: Aziraphale's perspective of events (graphic, but maybe not quite explicit)Chapter 2: Crowley's perspective of events (definitely more explicit)This chapter was suggested by another member, who wanted to see what Crowley was up to during Aziraphale's tempting and blessing in Scotland.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Don’tlookatme](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Don%E2%80%99tlookatme).

> This is part of a series, in which Crowley and Aziraphale have sex for the first time in the church in 1941 (Celestial Pining, Demonic Angst), so if you want to get to the good stuff, check out that story. 
> 
> I also had no beta for this story, so apologies for typos, I did try my best to edit.

Aziraphale had no idea that the minor miracle he was supposed to perform happened to take place in a brothel in a small town outside of Edinburgh.

He had already done the tempting, wishing to get that done with first. The blessings were easy enough, but now he found himself in, what Gabriel would call, a veritable den of sin. But, this miracle was an order directly from the Almighty—who was he to question it?

Apparently, one of the women who worked there was going to give birth, and it had been up to the angel to ensure that there were no complications. The local midwife had recently passed away, and there was cause for concern that this particular labor was going to need some extra divine assistance. So, masquerading as a man of medicine he helped deliver the healthy baby boy, and soon both child and mother were fast asleep on a pile of hay, finding quiet in the small barn outside of the main building. Aziraphale miracled a thick, warm blanket to wrap about his patients before returning to the main building.

The interior of brothel visually resembled a regular tavern, vulgar and dark, with a bar on one end, and a large fireplace. Benches and chairs were scattered about the room in a haphazard manner, many of them occupied with drunk men and flirtatious women. The room was busy, and loud. It was the only brothel in the territory and business was clearly good. Tattered curtains covered selected corners and nooks offering little privacy for lewd acts. Patrons willing to pay extra coin would be escorted upstairs to have their pleasure met. A young man with an old lyre was situated in the corner, strumming a tune, while occasional moans and yelps of sexual pleasure mingled with sounds of laughter. 

The owner of the establishment was a brusque and resourceful widow. Aziraphale walked inside and saw her behind the bar, ordering about a couple of manservants. He approached her, to announce that the baby was delivered, and the child and mother were both healthy and resting peacefully on the bed of hay. 

“Oh thank thee sir,” she said with a thick Scottish accent, clapping her hands with joy. 

“Don’t mention it, madam,” Aziraphale replied with a dismissive wave.

She pulled out a couple of shiny coins from her purse, offering them to Aziraphale, who shook his head no.

“Perhaps…another form of payment she said,” and she nodded to a young woman who was standing a few feet away from them

“I thank you, no,” Aziraphale replied primly. “I really must be heading off.”

“A drink then…on the house,” the woman said with an uncompromising tone, pouring some jug of brown liquid into a mug. 

Aziraphale was not one to turn down food or drink. 

“Well…” he said with a smile, and he reached for the cup. 

The widow poured herself a serving, and they clinked mugs. Aziraphale took a big gulp of the drink, which was sour and thick, and wiped the foam from his upper lip. He sighed, contented, and decided to have a look around. 

That’s when a gentleman sitting at a table caught his eye. He was slender, and had long red hair with thick curly tendrils that cascaded down to his waist. His back was turned to Aziraphale, facing a woman who was all smiles and blushes. 

The angel’s heart skipped a beat. ‘Crowley?’ he wondered to himself as his eyes focused on the figure, who was sweet talking the woman, caressing her shoulder with lengthy fingers. He watched the movements for some time, but when he heard the man laugh, he could tell it was not, in fact, his demon friend—simply a human look-alike. 

“See somethin’ y’like?” the widow asked with a breathy whisper. 

“That gentleman there…who is he?” Aziraphale asked. 

“Ahh, so that’s yer pleasure then?” 

“Ye—well, no, no, he simply…looks familiar,” Aziraphale stammered. 

The widow laughed. “I dunno the gentle’s name, love. Comes by every month or so.”

Aziraphale took a gulp from his drink, and licked his lips, watching the pair with keen interest. The man leaned in to whisper something in the ear of the woman, who giggled and blushed in response. His hand furtively worked its way under her skirts, and she teasingly hit him on the chest, before throwing her head back and moaning. They kept at this for a few moments, before she whispered something into his ear, and he nodded, pulling his hand out from under her layers of fabric. The woman then led him to the staircase, casting a quick glance at the widow and Aziraphale as she went up, giving both of them a teasing wink. The man with the long red hair didn’t seem to notice. 

Aziraphale’s eyes followed the two of them, his heart beating wildly. He wasn’t sure why he was having this reaction—corporeal forms were such odd things. But he did know that the man reminded him terribly of Crowley, and he felt somewhat homesick. 

Suddenly, the woman slid an iron key over to Aziraphale. “First door to yer right,” she said with a casual wink. 

“Madame, I—“ Aziraphale protested with a whine.

“—you’ll have the room to yerself,” she interrupted. “I’ll bring up a bowl o’ stew. T’ thank thee.”

Aziraphale tilted his head, interested in the offer of a warm meal. “Well, I suppose there’s no harm in staying for that.”

“I’ll be up in a half-hour, love.” 

Aziraphale nodded and took the key. 

“Oh and if y’look behind the curtain on the wall—there may be somethin’ to occupy.”

Aziraphale nodded with his brows furrowed, confused at what she could mean, and headed up the stairs. 

The room was small and reeked of sex. With a small miracle of fire, Aziraphale lit a small oil lamp stationed in the corner, and light filled the space. There was a bed with blankets in a disheveled heap, and a chair next to a small table. A window to the room looked out over a dark tree, which was barely visible in the darkness outside. He sat in the chair, with his hands folded primly in his lap. After several minutes, he began to doubt his decision to stay. He did really enjoy food, but he really felt like he should be getting back to London. 

He wondered if Crowley would still be there. Had he made Hamlet a success? Aziraphale hoped so. Perhaps the two of them could watch it together in a huge crowd. Aziraphale imagined himself pressed up tightly against Crowley in a throng of spectators, and secretly watching the demon enjoying the play in spite of himself. He imagined accidentally grazing the demon’s back with his hand, and feeling his soft, fiery hair. Absentmindedly, the angel began to drum his fingers on the table, and the longer he sat, the more he yearned to travel to London and find Crowley. 

A loud moan from the room next-door roused him from his thoughts. He looked up towards the wall, and espied the curtain the widow had spoken of. There was a great thud and a flurry of giggles, and a muffled, “oh yes,” piquing the angel’s interest.

Aziraphale stood up, and walked over to the curtain, pulling it aside. There he saw a hole in the wall, just big enough to look through. He raised an eyebrow and glanced around his room. It was empty, of course, but he still felt a little hesitant nonetheless. He bit his lip and his heart raced as he peered through the opening into the room next door. 

The man with the red hair was completely naked, his back to the angel. His hands were resting on something waist-high in front of him that Aziraphale couldn’t quite make out, and his head was rolled back in ecstasy, and his hips gyrated.

Aziraphale gasped and looked away, his heart beating quickly. He had seen the act of sex performed before, on several momentous occasions. The first time was at Petronius’ restaurant in Rome, and the event nearly scandalized him back to heaven. Then there had been the awkward moments when certain royal courts demanded that people be present for the act of marital consummation, which Aziraphale was unfortunately compelled to attend on several occasions. Those were always uncomfortable, and the angel was hopeful that the trend would die away soon. 

But this—this was different. The wild intimacy which was shared between these two people who were both seemingly enjoying it intrigued Aziraphale. He heard a deep, guttural moan followed by a high-pitched squeal and another thud, and he bit his lip, peering back through the hole. 

The redheaded man was now standing and had the woman pressed against the wall, her legs hitched in the air, the man holding them aloft with lengthy fingers that clenched around her thighs. He was thrusting roughly into her, the muscles of his back and ass clenching with every rolling plunge. Her arms were wrapped about his shoulders, holding herself up, and she pulled him in close so that her face was just visible to Aziraphale over the man’s left shoulder. 

The woman screamed delightful “oh’s” at every thrust, eliciting equally excited groans from her partner. He shifted weight slightly, and rutted deeper and deeper. The clenching sinews of muscle in his upper back back peeking out from underneath ripples of red tendrils that swayed with the pumping rhythm of his body.

Aziraphale’s mouth dropped, and his eyes widened at the sight. He had never really witnessed this kind of mutual passion—even if the woman was playing a role (as per her profession), she was doing a remarkable job of it. Her hands clawed into the man’s back, and gently pulled his fiery hair. He yelped thrusted faster and faster. 

Aziraphale swallowed, waiting to see what would happen next. After several rough moments, it seemed to him that the woman achieved a supernaturally high level of ecstasy, screaming indelicate words as her eyes rolled back into her head, her mouth open into a gaping smile. This made Aziraphale’s heart pump fast—he had never witnessed an orgasm before, and this was rather delicious. He wondered, briefly, if his body would do that.

She then did something rather unexpected. Her eyes flittered open and she looked directly at Aziraphale, and smiled. 

‘She can’t see me…can she?’ Aziraphale wondered, his heart beating rapidly at the thought of being caught. ‘This small hole in the wall…cannot be big enough to make my presence known….can it?’

As if reading his mind, the woman winked at him, and raised a finger to her lips as if to shush him, while the red-haired man continued to thrust and groan.

‘Why…these conniving…!’ Aziraphale couldn’t finish his thought, realizing that the two women had arranged this whole scheme. The red-haired man, he was sure, had no idea what was going on, but of course the woman next door and the widow downstairs had probably set in motion this voyeuristic plan hundreds of times, with patrons who were too embarrassed or ashamed to partake in physical pleasure themselves, preferring to get off on watching from afar. Aziraphale must have been very obviously leering at the two of them downstairs. A red blush crept up his cheeks, and he felt rather embarrassed. 

But he didn’t move his gaze away from the hole.

The woman smiled devilishly, and brought her hand back to the man, pulling gently on his hair again. Aziraphale made a small chortle in his throat as he watched the redheaded man thrust with great force, letting out a loud, ecstatic cry as he shivered and rutted uncontrollably a few more times. 

Aziraphale pushed himself back from the wall, letting the curtain cover the hole once more. He clasped his chest, feeling it beat heavily. He looked about the room and decided he didn’t want to wait for food after all. He wanted to find Crowley. He needed to find Crowley—even if it meant riding on horseback all the way to London.

He left the room quickly, and went downstairs. He found the widow, who smiled wickedly at Aziraphale. Embarassed, he thanked her quickly and left. His breath was shaky, and he decided to check on his patients in the barn before taking his horse and riding out, when suddenly from around the corner—

—he ran into Crowley, literally bumping his chest into the demon. 

“Oh! Oh…dear!” Aziraphale stammered, feeling his face turning hot. 

“Hello Aziraphale!” Crowley said, seemingly unsurprised. “Been here long?”

“I—oh Crowley, no, it’s not what you think!” the angel replied defensively. 

“No? So you weren’t here for a quick fuck?” Crowley teased with a mischievous grin. 

“Crowley!” Aziraphale admonished, trying to maintain a tone that would proclaim his innocence. “I’ll have you know, I was here for a miracle.” It wasn’t a lie, it just wasn’t the entire truth. 

“A miracle, really?” Crowley mused. 

“Yes! Really! There’s a young woman back here who just had a rather complicated pregnancy, and I had to make sure the child was delivered without any problems.”

“Oh, so you were just helping deliver a child, were you?”

“Yes…well…not just now, I am just about to check up on my patients though. They are out in the barn.”

“Oh! The woman and baby are out here. And so you were inside..what..just because, then?”

Aziraphale looked down at his feet, feeling rather embarrassed. He didn’t want to tell Crowley that he was voyeuristically watching humans making passionate love. He didn’t want anyone to find out—ever. He fumbled nervously with his tunic, trying to think of what to say.

Crowley sighed. “It’s alright Azriaphale,” the demon said softly. “Brothels can be…interesting places.”

“Well—“ Aziraphale said, still looking at the ground. “Yes, they can be. But I just don’t want you thinking that I was…partaking…in anything…”

“Don’t worry. You’re an angel. I don’t think you can do any…partaking…if it’s wrong,” Crowley reassured, but there was something almost wistful in the tone of his voice.

“Oh?” Aziraphale said, glancing up and looking into Crowley’s lenses. “I—oh thank you, I did need to hear that, I think.”

“Don’t mention it….angel.” Crowley responded, letting the word angel spill out at the last moment. Aziraphale smiled at being called that. It was nice to be reminded that he was one.

“Besides,” Crowley continued, “if you’re going to be here on earth, you might as well know what humans get up to. In order to blend in, you know.”

“Yes, true,” Aziraphale said, feeling his embarrassment slide away. “Is that why you are here…to blend in?”

“No. I came to find you. It’s been 3 weeks you know. I thought you’d want to see how well your play is doing.”

“Hamlet!” Aziraphale said excitedly. “Is it a success?”

“You can’t even imagine how successful it is,” Crowley responded proudly. 

“Well, let me finish caring for my patients, and perhaps…we might watch it together?”

“Yes, alright,” Crowley groaned. “But I really don’t want to take a horse back.”

“No, nor I,” Aziraphale said.

“Perhaps I can find us a carriage?”

“That would be wonderful my dear.”

“Alright then. Angel.”


	2. Chapter 2: Crowley's perspective of events

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We now see Crowley's side of things from the same night.

“Stupid, bloody beast!” Crowley hissed as his horse galloped away without him. Well, it wasn’t exactly *his* horse, but it was the horse he had taken to ride to Edinburgh in the hopes of finding Aziraphale. But now, he was starting to regret that decision, as he rubbed his buttocks, which was raw and aching from the ride. 

He was close to the city, anyhow. He saw a short distance up the road lights to what looked like an inn, so he decided to make his way there, rest up for the night, and he’d continue his search for the angel in the morning.

It had been three weeks since Aziraphale left for Scotland, to perform the blessings and temptings. Crowley had thought the whole ordeal could have taken a few days, but Aziraphale hadn’t shown up to any of the shows of Hamlet. Crowley had attended each one since the angel left, but no mess of white blonde curls graced the Globe’s spectator section. 

Crowley had practically memorized all of Hamlet—the gloomiest, bloody play Shakespeare had ever written (as far as he was concerned)—and he wanted to show Aziraphale that he had, indeed, made sure the play was a success. It wasn’t actually a hard miracle to perform, really. People did actually enjoy the play, once they realized that it was good, and by word of mouth, it soon became the talk of London. Everyone wanted to see it, and the theater was packed for three weeks straight, thanks to a couple of sly demonic miracles. 

But now Crowley felt like he was getting the worse end of the deal. And what’s more, he began to worry that Aziraphale had gotten himself into trouble. The angel was good at that, getting himself into trouble. For someone so clever he was really bloody stupid sometimes. 

So, Crowley stole a horse and rode up to Edinburgh, asking at various inns and stops along the way if they’d seen a blonde come through anytime soon. A few people mentioned seeing someone matching the description a few weeks back, so Crowley at least felt like he was on the right track. 

“If I find out that he’s been dining on mutton and roast pig for the past 3 weeks straight while I had to ride a bloody horse through rain up to Scotland, I’m going to fucking murder him,” he grumbled to himself. 

He got closer to the building and could hear laughter and music. And he could smell arousal. He raised an eyebrow and a wry smile crept on his face. 

“Well…” he uttered with renewed interest. “Perhaps this won’t be so bad after all.”

Crowley, being a demon and tempter, found most brothels to be very amusing places. He didn’t actually partake in sex with humans himself, but he enjoyed being surrounded by it. The pheromones wafting through the air with screams of pleasure bursting from every corner. His devilish whispers in hesitant ears often led to wild enactments of base desires. 

He knew that many humans, especially this day in age, felt like brothels were sinful, but on some level, he couldn’t really see what was wrong with people drawing pleasure out of their own human bodies, and giving pleasure to others—so long as no one was getting harmed (which did, unfortunately, accompany many brothels). But he smelled the air again as he got closer, and he could tell that no one was in any pain—-well, there was someone who was in pain, but they seemed to be really enjoying it. 

He clamored towards the building, wading his way off of the road and through tall grass. He stopped at a large tree, looking up in the windows to get a better look when he saw….

Aziraphale. 

His heart skipped a beat at the sight. The angel, his golden curls perfectly coiffed, his ivory tunic glistening in the lamp light. But hang on, what was he doing in a place like…

Oh. 

OH.

Crowley’s mouth dropped in shock. In the room next door, he could clearly through the window see a naked man getting his dick sucked by a woman on her knees. The man had long red hair—not unlike Crowley’s own—and he held the woman’s head, swerving his hips into her. 

This was not what was surprising to Crowley. What was surprising to him was that Aziraphale was lifting a curtain and sticking his face next to the wall, seemingly so that he could watch the entire scene through a secret peep hole.

Crowley had seen this done hundreds of times before. If you had sex in a brothel, you had to assume you were being watched by someone with a fetish. 

“Oh, fuck, Aziraphale,” Crowley murmured, as he leaned up against the tree. “You kinky bastard. You angelic hypocrite.” The demon smiled widely, and felt his cock stir beneath his breeches. 

His tongue grew thick in his mouth, as pleasure built up in his lower abdomen. He sucked on his lower lip, and let his hand wander roughly over his black velvet fabric, palming his erection through thick layers of clothes. 

He had thought of Aziraphale, often. In fact, when he pleasured himself, it was really only to wild thoughts of the cherubic face, the sweetly innocent smile, the downy curls. He’d gone to brothels and orgies many, many times, but his own orgasms were always achieved with his own deft hands pumping himself to thoughts of Aziraphale, swirling his tongue around the demon’s cock, bent over and receiving him from behind, and in all other manner of lewd acts. He’d watch the humans for inspiration for his fantasies, and play them over in his mind, imagining Aziraphale doing things with and to the demon. 

It usually made Crowley feel a little ashamed. He was certain that Aziraphale had no such interest in sexual pleasure (especially in receiving or giving such pleasure from or to Crowley). But, being the demon he was, Crowley always felt even hotter in thinking about the shame, thinking himself bad, and unworthy of Aziraphale. 

After all, he was unworthy of him. Aziraphale was good—no, not good. Aziraphale was the absolute best, better than any other angel in heaven.

Or…was he?

Crowley stared at his innocent cherub, who was unmistakably partaking in hedonistic voyeurism.

The sight was delicious. Crowley unfastened his breeches, and slid his hands underneath the fabric, finding himself throbbingly hard and aching for touch. 

“That’s right, you seraphic prick,” he murmured, as his stroked his length, “watch those two horny—“

Aziraphale pulled away from the wall and looked towards the window, causing Crowley to slow his pumping rhythm.

“Ahh, angel, come on. Have a look. I know you want to,” Crowley hissed, his words dripping with raw temptation as his eyes fluttered to the humans in the room next door. The woman, who was still dressed, was now standing up, and the man plowed his lips against hers in a rough kiss. Crowley winced at the clumsiness. If he ever had the opportunity to kiss Aziraphale, he thought, he’d do it with grace. 

The man then lifted the human woman, ramming her against the wall, and swerving his hips until he found entrance. 

He looked back at Aziraphale, who was slowly making his way back to the peep hole. 

“That’ssss it, angel. My fucking angel. Go on. Have a look,” Crowley decided to completely drop his breeches, letting his throbbing cock bob in the night air. He wrapped his hand around the erection, pumping with slow but earnest movements, building pleasure as he watched Aziraphale’s chest heave as he stared through the opening in the wall. 

Crowley glanced over to the room on the right. The humans were really going at it. The naked man’s ass clenched as his hips rolled forward in determined thrusts. He could hear the woman wantonly scream with every pounding motion. 

Crowley hissed in approval as he sped up his own hand, feeling his cock pulse with burning ardor. He imagined, briefly, that he had Aziraphale pinned up against the wall like that, mounting him as he held the angel’s fleshy thighs, hearing the celestial groans of euphoria as Crowley filled him deeper and deeper. 

“OH, fuck, Aziraphale, I want you, FUCK,” Crowley moaned, as his lips curled backwards and precum wetted the tip of his cock. The pinky of his free hand swirled absentmindedly over the wetness, and he slid out his tongue to lick the substance from his little finger, tasting himself, and imagining that it was Aziraphale that he tasted. He began to suck on his finger, hard, and moaned as he watched Aziraphale, breathing heavily as he pressed his angelic body into the wall and licking his lips.

His removed his pinky from his mouth with a wet pop, spit in his hand, and let his saliva act as an emollient, sweetening his self-gratification with slick tugs. 

“Oh, yes, Angel,” he groaned, watching Aziraphale and pumping faster and harder, listening to the wet noise of his hand rubbing his cock. Pleasure built up in his abdomen and legs, tingling and warm. His breathing became irregular and desperate, and he kept making uncontrollable moaning noises that started at the back of his throat. 

“Nngk, yess, oh Satan, fuck,” he murmured, never removing his yes from the celestial figure that shown in the window above. 

He was reaching the point of no return. Electric heat burned from the base of his groin, and spread throughout his body, as his heard raced. He couldn’t stop, he kept pounding. He needed release, oh FUCK, he needed release. 

“Keep looking angel, that’sssss it don’t sssstop, oh ssshiiit, Azzzsssira--,” he screamed through his teeth as his climax bubbled forth, seething with harsh waves of pleasure that echoed all over his corporeal form. He came, spurting creamy spunk into the dark night air. He rode the orgasm, with each ripple of pleasure reverberating through his cock and throughout his whole being. His eyes had flittered shut at some point, and after one final jerk of his hips, he shook his head and blinked them open. 

The humans, it appeared had also finished, and he caught Aziraphale quickly walking away from the window and out of the room. 

“Oh shit!” Crowley uttered, quickly putting himself back together, hoisting his velvet breeches back over his hips. He didn’t want to lose sight of Aziraphale, and the thought of catching the angel in a brothel was, well, more than tempting. 

Truth be told, seeing Aziraphale as a voyeur Crowley a modicum of hope. Sure, it didn’t appear as though Aziraphale had actually partaken in any physical or self-gratifying deeds, but the mere act of watching human sex was perhaps an indication that the angel was at least interested. 

Crowley doubted that his beloved would ever actually want a demon, himself especially, but…perhaps…

Crowley was lost in his thoughts of Aziraphale when suddenly he ran—quite literally—into the angel. His heart raced at the meeting, and he grinned widely, in spite of himself. 

“Oh! Oh…dear!” Aziraphale stammered, and his face turned a lovely shade of crimson. It made Crowley grin even harder.

“Hello Aziraphale! Been here long?” he wasn’t going to let the angel know that he’d seen what Aziraphale had been up to. 

“I—oh Crowley, no, it’s not what you think!” the angel stammered. 

‘Oh he’s very nervous,’ thought Crowley wickedly. ‘This is going to be fun.’

“No? So you weren’t here for a quick fuck?” Crowley teased.

“Crowley!” The angel’s voice was very defensive, and it made Crowley’s heart flutter. “I’ll have you know, I was here for a miracle.”

“A miracle, really?” Crowley mused. 

“Yes! Really! There’s a young woman back here who just had a rather complicated pregnancy, and I had to make sure the child was delivered without any problems.”

“Oh, so you were just helping deliver a child, were you?” Crowley asked, really wanting the angel to confess his dirty voyeurism. 

“Yes…well…not just now, I am just about to check up on my patients though. They are out in the barn.”

“Oh! The woman and baby are out here. And so you were inside..what..just because, then?”

Aziraphale looked down at his feet, and didn’t say anything. He looked rather sheepish and began to awkwardly play with his clothes. Crowley felt that he was pushing Aziraphale too far—as fun as the teasing was, he didn’t want to break the poor angel. It was probably the first time he’d ever done or seen anything like this, and Crowley certainly didn’t want it to be Aziraphale’s last experience. If anything, he hoped the humans in their lusty ardor awoke something in the angel.

Crowley sighed. “It’s alright Azriaphale. Brothels can be…interesting places.”

“Well—“ Aziraphale said, still looking at the ground. “Yes, they can be. But I just don’t want you thinking that I was…partaking…in anything…”

Crowley stifled what he wanted to say, which was to ask if the angel wanted to partake…with him. But asking would have been useless. Aziraphale was an angel. He was a demon. This was a line that Aziraphale always maintained, much to Crowley’s frustration and heartache. 

“Don’t worry. You’re an angel. I don’t think you can do any…partaking…if it’s wrong,” Crowley said reassuringly.

“Oh?” Aziraphale said, glancing up with a renewed twinkle in his eye. He looked at Crowley, whose heart skipped a beat. “I—oh thank you, I did need to hear that, I think.”

“Don’t mention it….angel.” Crowley responded. 

He hadn’t called him angel like this before, as an epithet, but it seemed right. It was a reminder, not just to Aziraphale, but to himself as well, that his beloved was beyond his reach, too good for him. The angel was something pure and celestial that wouldn’t dare and shouldn’t dare mingle or fraternize with a lowly, base demon like Crowley. 

It hurt to call him angel, as it only emphasized that Crowley was a demon, fallen and rotten—but he saw that it put a smile on Aziraphale’s face, and his hurt was swiftly accompanied with fluttering pangs of yearning. 

If he couldn’t actually have Aziraphale, at least he could make him happy. Even if the angel’s happiness was a torment to Crowley. 

But then, he was a demon. His whole existence was that of torment.

“Besides,” Crowley continued, “if you’re going to be here on earth, you might as well know what humans get up to. In order to blend in, you know.”

“Yes, true. Is that why you are here…to blend in?”

“No. I came to find you. It’s been 3 weeks you know. I thought you’d want to see how well your play is doing.”

“Hamlet!” Aziraphale said excitedly. “Is it a success?”

“You can’t even imagine how successful it is,” Crowley said proudly, watching the joy build in Aziraphale’s eyes. 

“Well, let me finish caring for my patients, and perhaps…we might watch it together?”

“Yes, alright,” Crowley said rolling his eyes. He would do anything for Aziraphale, in spite of himself. “But I really don’t want to take a horse back.”

“No, nor I,” Aziraphale said.

“Perhaps I can find us a carriage?”

“That would be wonderful my dear.”

“Alright then. Angel.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! If you are looking for more smut and want eventual consummation, check out the next story in this series, Celestial Pining, Demonic Angst!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I appreciate any and all feedback you have, and will post Crowley's POV as soon as I am able.


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